


Sunlight and shadow

by Splinter



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Movie(s), Vaginal Sex, lots of stoned babbling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 19:42:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7946680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Splinter/pseuds/Splinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her eyes are big and dark, the pupils wide, but the rim of colour around them must be the greenest thing he’s ever seen, even in a garden of grass and apple trees. He realises he’s said something important. </p><p>Fill for the <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Smutty_artsPromptChallenge">smutty_arts art prompt challenge</a>, inspired by <a href="http://youkaiyume.tumblr.com/">youkaiyume's</a>’s <a href="http://youkaiyume.tumblr.com/post/149628617688/warning-nsfw-for-this-weeks-smut-prompt-for">gorgeous NSFW art</a> and <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/SingleWhiteCatLady/pseuds/SingleWhiteCatLady">SingleWhiteCatLady</a>'s prompt suggestion: "We found some mushrooms in the garden and ate them and now we can touch souls metaphysical stoner sex". In this case, not so much metaphysical as "with a lot of stoned babbling".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sunlight and shadow

It’s a beautiful day. The sun is bright but not burning, with a little cloud cover and a tiny breeze. Leaves rustle as Max and Furiosa walk through the gardens. 

They’ve been running checks on the irrigation systems. Having finished the main fields, they’re working their way round the outer gardens. The apple orchard seems to follow different seasons to the other crops, barely past blossom when everything else is nearing harvest time.

“Hey, mushrooms.” Furiosa points to the foot of a tree. “Must tell the Dag.” Max grunts agreement. Fungi are the Dag’s latest experiment. After some popped up of their own accord, she’s trying to grow trays of them indoors, not tasty but apparently nutritious. These look like the same kind, though they’re plumper than the indoor crop. Furiosa picks a couple, passes one to Max. If anything, they taste even nastier.

By the time they’ve finished chewing, they’ve reached the orchard’s irrigation shed, the last on their list. So far, there have been no signs of corrosion or wear; it’s been a good day, the work going much faster than expected. Their luck holds, because things are running smoothly here, too. 

Max feels a burst of lightness, looking around the garden, impossibly lush and green when he thinks of the wastes beyond. This corner is almost overgrown, left to itself while other crops need more attention. Grass is thick underfoot, with dappled shadows cast by the apple trees. Furiosa looks relaxed and happy, her eyes very green. 

Checks completed, they stop for a break. Furiosa laughs when Max sits down in a heap, lets him tug her down beside him. They’re both still giggly as she gets the water bottle out. After drinking, he slides down, turns to rest his head in her lap. 

While she’s stroking his hair, she looks at the mushrooms again. She reaches over to pick another one. 

“Is this the kind we had?” Max nods, still smiling. “That’s… that’s not the kind the Dag’s growing.” Max makes an enquiring noise: they were very similar. He looks more closely, and starts to laugh again.

“Shrooms,” he says. 

“What are – oh.” She’s remembering something. “The Mothers used those, sometimes. Usually called them a different name.” She frowns. “We ate one each, is that…?”

“Should be fine,” says Max. He’s feeling reckless, which might be the mushrooms at work, but he does know about this. “Tried them a couple of times. Before.” Furiosa looks surprised. “Was six thousand days old, a bit less.” She giggles, very obviously imagining a young and rebellious Max. Of course, he’s also thinking of the lists of doses, effects and penalties he’d had to learn as a cop. They’d still been illegal when he joined the Main Force Patrol, but only just; it had been easy to turn a blind eye to shrooms when the world was falling. “Did you? Try them?” She shakes her head.

“Wasn’t old enough. Before.” She sobers up for a moment. Her Before isn’t the same as his. “The Mothers said they could bring back bad memories, or –” she stops. Max shrugs. She’s right: they can bring out existing mental disorders, and he’s an obvious risk. Yet he can’t bring himself to worry. They didn’t have much, and he’s still feeling giddy with the light and the green. 

“Can do. Probably just make you see colours, make you feel good.” Furiosa’s hand is back in his hair, her sober look fading. 

“You make me feel good.” She says it easily. They both struggle when it comes to talking, but that just slipped out. Max tilts his head back, kisses her palm. She smiles. “We should take a few down to the infirmary, Mel might be able to use them.” 

He nods, sits up to take another drink. A few drops slide over his lips. Furiosa puts her hand to his mouth, catching the water. Max feels his skin prickle. He doesn’t know if he’s responding to the shrooms or just to her touch. Either way, it’s vivid.

“The light’s so pretty,” Furiosa says, stroking his shoulder, tracing shadows cast by the apple tree above them. She tugs at his shirt, pulling the neckline so she can watch patterns of light and shade moving on his skin. He giggles, setting her off again.

“Could take your arm off, if we’re resting.” He runs a finger over her leather shoulder-piece.

“Oh, is that what we’re doing.”

“Yes. Resting.” His finger has reached the bare skin of her nub, between the straps of her prosthetic. “S’healthy, getting proper rest.” He turns onto his front, shuffles down to reach for her buckles. “Mel says so. She’ll tell you that. When we take her the mushrooms.” 

Furiosa is smiling at him, lying back on her elbows so he can get at her belts. He’s undone her buckles hundreds of times, but he’s getting a bit tangled in them today. He leans in, rests his head between her breasts, not really looking at what he’s doing. She laughs, her chest and belly shaking under him. 

It might be an effect of the mushrooms, but it’s so nice, to hear her like this, to laugh in return. He has a strange sense of clarity, looking at the gardens, looking at her. Her buckles come free – for some reason, it’s easier once he stops paying attention – and he eases the prosthetic off her. She reaches down to undo her bodice. Once she’s unwrapped, he burrows back into her.

“So green,” she says, looking around. “Green place.” There’s a sadness in her voice. Max pulls her closer, holds her tight. She stretches and purrs in his arms, her shirt riding up as she moves. Max strokes her, scars and smooth bare skin, her breast soft when he slides his hand up. She purrs again, pulls at her own hem, not very successfully. When he sits up and works her top off, she tugs at his shirt, too.

“Off, off, off.”

“Mmph,” Max says, his face back between her breasts. He shifts over to lap at one of her nipples, admiring the way her body responds, her half-hard nipple peaking and tightening. He sucks, sees it shine wet when he moves his head away. “Like your breasts,” he says, muffled. “Like what they do.” She laughs at that, so he stops to consider what he’s just said. It seems perfectly reasonable to him.

“Off,” says Furiosa, still pulling at his clothes. 

“Stripey,” she adds, nuzzling at him, once she’s got his shirt off. He can’t see what she’s talking about, so she catches his hand, stroking his wrist. She means his tan lines, the contrast between the skin he usually covers up and the skin that catches the sun. She lets go to reach for his belt, pushing his leathers down. Then she gets distracted, sliding her hand down instead.

“Boots,” he tells her, pulling away to take them off first. By the time he’s naked, she’s wriggling back against the grass, enjoying the touch of it on her skin. He supposes, vaguely, that they’re taking a risk, undressing in public. But it’s a quiet part of the garden, no reason for anyone else to be there, and Furiosa is half-naked in front of him.

“So green. And soft, and wet. Not wet, but feels as if it might be, the way it’s cool.” She’s burbling, chattering on. He wants to kiss her all over. “S’good against skin,” she tells him, then taps his bare calf. “More skin. Good.” 

He starts undoing her boots and getting her pants off, stroking through leather and kissing where she’s bare. He ends up sprawled over her, lying between her legs, his head on her chest. She strokes his hair again.

“Like it when you do that.”

“Nice hair,” she murmurs. “Bit sticks up, asking me to play with it.” She’s brushing it back and forth. Max giggles against her. 

“Not just hair.” 

“Mmm?”

“Not just hair, asking. Or sticking up.” He shifts a bit, aware of his cock nudging at her thigh. She groans at him, and starts laughing, because even for a stoned person that was terrible.

“Play with the rest of you, then.” She strokes him again. Max gives a satisfied grunt, presses closer. She opens her legs wider, so that he feels a tickle of hair against his belly. She’s wet. He runs a hand up her side.

“Look at you. All your skin, and your eyes, and your breasts.” Furiosa is smiling, moving down under him so he can reach to kiss her. “Eyes are so green. Green as a green place. Greener.”

“Yours are as blue as, as.” She’s trying to think of something blue enough. 

“Sky.” 

“No, bluer. Sky isn’t always blue. Blue as the bluest sky, night just fallen. Stars coming out, and…” her voice trails off, and she starts kissing him. He knows they’re both babbling, doesn’t care. He loves hearing her voice, loves touching her. 

“’m talking a lot,” he points out, because it seems worth mentioning. 

“Yeah,” she agrees, pleased, then gets sidetracked into kissing him again. He mouths his way down her throat.

“Love your muscles. Love you. Love your skin.” When he lifts his head, she’s looking at him. Her eyes are big and dark, the pupils wide, but the rim of colour around them must be the greenest thing he’s ever seen, even in a garden of grass and apple trees. He realises he’s said something important. “Love you,” he says, staring helplessly at her. 

“Say it again.” Her eyes look even bigger.

“Love you. Love you.” He’s kissing her neck, stroking her.

“Love you,” she says, though he’s not sure if she’s saying it on her own account or just thinking over his words. There’s a leaf pattern moving on her breast, but the shadow of his head covers it when he leans in to kiss her there.

Furiosa slips her hand down, looking for his cock. Once they’re lined up, she hooks her legs around him, her thighs pressed against his sides.

“Inside me, inside me. Deeper,” she says, gives a little moan as he slides home. “You inside me. Me inside you.” She isn’t, though, she’s wrapped all around him, tight and wet. She shivers as he buries himself deeper. He takes her hand, lacing their fingers together, though it’s still not quite the same as being inside him. He cups his other hand around her shortened forearm. Inside his soul, he decides, and says it out loud.

“What? Where?”

“In me. You. In all of me. All through me.” He presses his face to her breastbone, nibbling at her. Furiosa lifts her head, then lets it fall back. She kisses his wrist, which is the nearest part of him. She looks so abandoned, with her long neck stretched, her eyes nearly closed. Her mouth is warm and wet on his wrist; she licks at his pulse.

“Feel your heart beating.” He can hear the wonder in her voice. “Your blood, under the skin.” He knows his heart is beating harder and faster. The blood under her lips will soon be the blood keeping his cock hard inside her. He kisses her collarbone, moves up to find the pulse in her throat. She moans, mouth back on his wrist.

“Under my skin, too,” she says. “In my veins, in my heart.” With that, she rocks her hips up against him, clenching around him.

“Move,” she says. “Want you. Move.” Max groans at the tilt and squeeze. She’s shifting under him, so he changes the angle of his hips, rolling them until she sighs at it. He starts to thrust, slowly, feeling her shiver when he gets it just right. 

“There.” She’s sighing the word. “Just there.” He could lose himself in her smile.

The drag of his cock inside her feels wonderful, even better when she twitches around him. He’s thrusting at his usual speed, he thinks, but it’s all so slow, his nerve ends flaring. 

When he tried shrooms as a teenager, he remembers watching the clock take minutes to count out a second. Now it’s endlessly stretched-out fucking, each thrust a long, long slide into her. Being spaced is giving him more time to feel her, around him and under him, the shift of her hand against his, her hard nipples and soft breasts. When she clenches on him, light and colour dazzle in front of his eyes, going on forever.

He lets go of her forearm, stroking his hand down to reach for her clit. It takes a long time, a long expanse of pale skin. When he gets to her pussy, he marvels at the wet muscle, her cunt stretched around him, the intricacy of her clit. She moans when he strokes her, so he does it again, and again.

He’s so dizzy with sensation that he almost doesn’t realise he’s coming. It’s part of an entire sensory overload, touch and colour and his body’s response, Furiosa shuddering around him. He can hear her gasp, feel her shiver and twitch. He can’t quite tell when the orgasm stops, his or hers; he’s still inside her, still stroking her, filled with heat and light. She wraps her nub and her legs around him, holding him tight.

After a long, dazed while, Max realises he’s sleepy, that he’d better move. She huffs when he climbs off her. He kisses her again, and rolls over to find the water bottle. They’ll both have headaches coming.

Once they’ve finished drinking, Furiosa tugs him back to spoon him, her arm around him and one of her long legs hooked over his. He tangles their fingers again.

He has a fuzzy idea that this won’t be so simple when they wake up. He doesn’t care, or doesn’t care yet. He kisses her hand, knuckles and fingertips, watching shadow and light trembling on her palm.

**Author's Note:**

> When they harvest the apples, [it looks like this](http://youkaiyume.tumblr.com/post/143541362013/garden-of-eden-max-and-furiosa-and-apple-picking)
> 
> More on the effects of mushrooms [here](https://www.erowid.org/plants/mushrooms/mushrooms_effects.shtml).
> 
> I'm at [lurkinghistoric](http://lurkinghistoric.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.


End file.
